


The Tragedy That Worked Out

by SapphyreLily



Series: Seijou 4 Week 2016 [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: College AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-26 01:53:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7555543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphyreLily/pseuds/SapphyreLily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seijoh 4 Week Day 2 - College AU</p><p>It is not possible to survive college without coffee, but Matsukawa thinks he can make it through without more friends.<br/>After all, one of Oikawa is enough to last him the rest of forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tragedy That Worked Out

College is a sleepy affair, waking up too early and falling asleep too late. Napping in class when the lecture is unimportant, blacking out because he hasn’t had enough rest.

College is living from one block of sleep to another, and he hates it.

But what he hates even more is his roommate, who is absolutely too cheerful and awake at seven in the morning.

(No, that’s a lie. His roommate is a decent fellow, usually. It’s just his waking habits that Matsukawa can’t stand.)

“Mattsun~ Do you want coffee or tea this morning?”

Matsukawa grunts, turns away and shuffles off to their shared bathroom. Behind him, Oikawa giggles, and he hears the coffee machine start up. It’s routine for them, running on clockwork and subconscious thought.

(Oikawa has never made him tea.)

What’s not routine, is that pounding coming from their front door.

Matsukawa groans and shuts himself in the bathroom, latching the door so Oikawa can’t force him to answer the knocking. He is not _awake_ yet, damnit!

The pounding has not resolved itself by the time he finishes brushing his teeth and shaving. When he returns to the kitchenette, he swears there are now _two_ sets of knocking.

“Oikawa, why is someone knocking on our door?” He manages not to grit his teeth, a marvellous feat, considering how close he feels to murder.

Oikawa shrugs. “Why don’t you answer it?”

Matsukawa glares at him. “You were out here for the past ten minutes. It would not have killed you to take the ten steps to the door.”

“You answer it.” Oikawa folds his arms, surprisingly stubborn so early in the day.

“ _If_ I answer the door and put us out of this audio maelstrom, it’s for my sake, not yours, you selfish asshole.” He stomps towards the door.

Oikawa humphs behind him. “Always so touchy in the morning.”

“You’re just unnatural,” he retorts, yanking the front door open.

Two men stare back at him, the skin on their raised fists red and swollen from so much knocking. Matsukawa raises an eyebrow, thoroughly unimpressed. “Yes?”

“We’re Oikawa's group mates. He’s been running from us and our project for a while.” The shorter one explains. His other hand clutches a thick sheath of papers, and if this guy shared the same thoughts as Matsukawa, those papers would be giving Oikawa a concussion very soon.

“I see. Come in.” He steps aside almost graciously, welcomes them in and ushers them to the kitchenette.

Oikawa blanches when he sees who it is, and makes a foolish attempt to bolt for the door. The shorter guy grabs him by the scruff of his neck, bringing down the papers on his head.

Matsukawa decides that he likes this guy.

He smirks as he watches the short guy (“Iwa-chan”, Oikawa calls him) scold and yell at his roommate, and what’s surprising is the lack of a fake smile and attitude from the normally uncaring Oikawa.

He squints at them, still bleary without his coffee, and concludes that _there is something going on, and I will get to the bottom of it._

The other group mate snickers, smirking when Matsukawa looks over. He leans up to whisper conspiratorially. “Do you feel that sexual tension? I didn’t know Oikawa had it in him this early in the day.”

Ah, so that’s what it was.

Matsukawa musters up the best leer he can at that ungodly hour. “Oh, I don’t know. Is that what they call it these days?”

The other guy shakes his head, a mournful look on his face. “Alas, my friend, you are behind the times. Allow me to educate you.”

Matsukawa laughs.

Now here was someone he could get along just fine with.

Even at seven in the morning.

x.x.x.x.x

College is a hurricane of deadlines and projects and under-eye rings, peppered with prank wars and away games and trips to the laundromat.

College is a terrible blight upon his life, but ever since meeting Iwaizumi and Hanamaki, it is that much more tolerable.

Even though Oikawa is still firmly glued to his side.

Matsukawa throws the blankets off the couch, ignoring Oikawa’s affronted squawk as he retreats to the kitchenette to hunt for some better snacks. He doesn’t mind his roommate’s obsessive documentary watching all that much, or his habit of forcing them to watch said documentaries together, but he definitely prefers his mouth to be busy so that he would not fall asleep halfway through. (Or punch Oikawa, but who was looking at the itty-bitty details?)

Maybe that’s why he’s getting fat.

A three-note knock at the front door pauses his foraging, and he grins as he walks over to open it. “Makki. Perfect timing.”

Hanamaki stares at him with one eyebrow raised, slowly lifting his hand, a paper bag of what he assumes to be notes swinging from it. “I only came to deliver homework, but I'll bite. What’s with the crumbs?”

Matsukawa looks down at his shirt and brushes away some bits of potato chips. “Documentary night. Crop circles, I think. Care to join?”

Hanamaki wrinkles his nose. “I’ve heard of these nights. No. I have a paper due.”

“So do I, but I’m being a good friend.” Matsukawa taps his chin thoughtfully, a smirk spreading across his face as an idea blooms. “Call Iwaizumi. I’m feeling very hospitable towards Oikawa today. And we might even get our homework done by the end of this.”

“Oh?” Hanamaki’s eyes gleam as he digs out his phone, handing the bag of notes to Matsukawa, who grunts when he realises exactly how heavy it is. The strawberry blond toes off his shoes, phone to his ear as he plasters on a scheming grin. “Pray tell.”

“Oh, easy. Put Iwaizumi on the couch with Oikawa, smother them with blankets and run. Oikawa will be so stunned, he won't bother to chase us.” Matsukawa says it so simply, it almost sounds as if it would work.

Hanamaki snorts. “If you think Iwaizumi would allow that, you’re dead wrong.”

“I think I know _Oikawa_ , the octopus of documentary night. Get Iwaizumi on the couch long enough and they’ll be all over each other.”

“Sure, if Iwaizumi stays still long enou– Hello? Iwaizumi? I need a law enforcer. Yeah, Oikawa's not doing his work again. C'mon, your grade partially depends on this. Two percent is a _lot_ , excuse you.” Hanamaki gestures wildly as he talks, and the faint echo of Iwaizumi’s voice reaches Matsukawa easily. Suddenly, the strawberry blond cocks his head, a smug smile appearing. “I knew you would see reason. Oh, get some dinner on your way here. This might take a while. Bye.” The phone beeps audibly, cutting off the faint sound of Iwaizumi’s yelling.

Matsukawa shakes his head, barely stifling his laughter. “You didn’t let him finish.”

The strawberry blond stuffs his phone into his pocket and takes the notes back. “Of course not. Let him build up some anger. I hear it’s healthy to take it out on octopuses.”

Matsukawa nods sagely, as if this is a perfectly acceptable stress relief method. “What’s the most effective technique? I need to try it sometime, I have an octopus infestation.”

“I hear that clobbering one with a bat does wonders, but you know, your college notes might work too, since octopuses are so soft–“

“Mattsun?” Oikawa’s voice drifts over, though the rest of him is completely obscured by the blanket fort. “Where are you? There are oatmeal biscuits on the counter, why are you taking so long to get snacks?”

Matsukawa rolls his eyes and snags a few packets of biscuits for show. “What, I have a time limit for getting snacks now? You’re not my mom, Oikawa.”

Hanamaki snickers, and walks ahead of him to the blanket fort. Oikawa is still talking.

“No, but you’re supposed to feed me while I watch these shows–” His voice falters as the bag of notes is thrust in his face. “I know that handwriting. Iwa-chan?”

Hanamaki pouts and lowers the bag. “Oikawa, I’m hurt! Is Iwaizumi all you think about? Can’t I get a little love from you?” He holds out his arms petulantly, wiggling his fingers.

Oikawa still looks confused. “But Iwa-chan said he’d bring me the notes…”

“Well, he doesn’t love you anymore, so you get me instead.” Hanamaki puffs out his chest proudly, and Matsukawa doesn’t bother hiding his guffaw.

Oikawa squirms. “I want a refund. I didn’t order you.”

Hanamaki gasps, staggering backwards like he’s been shot. “This is an insult! Slander! Defamation of my honourable name–“

Matsukawa is laughing in earnest, so weakened by the fit of chuckles that he all but keels over when Oikawa jabs him with his foot. Hanamaki looks even more affronted.

“Mattsun! How could you betray me like this? Oikawa, I understand; his brain is full of nothing but fairy dust and Iwa-chan, but you, my brother, my partner in crime, the Juliet to my Romeo–“

Matsukawa aims a weak kick at him. “Romeo and Juliet _died_ , you asshat. Why do you get to be Romeo?”

“Because I am obviously the better looking and richer one.”

“You never read the play, stop making things up.”

“Neither did you! I _know_ your English is terrible.”

“Now, now, children, if you want to play Romeo and Juliet so badly, I’m sure there’s a knife and bleach somewhere in this apartment.” Oikawa cuts in with a grin. “And we have a balcony, so one of you can climb down and say your lines.”

Matsukawa chucks a packet of biscuits at his head. “Why don’t _you_ go stand on the balcony? Iwaizumi’s bound to be downstairs by now with our food–“

Just like that, and Oikawa is gone, screaming out the balcony about _Iwa-chan_ and _food_ and **_Romeo, Romeo, where art thou, Romeo?_** in perfect English no less. Matsukawa stares after him for a second before lying back down to ride out the giggles. He’s vaguely aware of Hanamaki somewhere near him, also rolling on the floor clutching his stomach.

It’s a few minutes before Hanamaki wheezes out, “Well, that was easy.”

“I think he’s high from the lack of sleep.” They can hear voices now, Oikawa's high thrills trundling on in English, and gruff, angry Japanese floating up from the street. “Aww, Iwaizumi’s playing along. That’s so sweet.”

“You think they’ll actually finish that scene from the play?” Hanamaki rolls over, staring at the balcony with his head on a propped up fist.

“Do you even know how it ends? I don’t.”

“No idea.” Hanamaki twists to look at him, eyebrows raised. “Should we watch the play to find out?”

“You have the play on DVD?”

The strawberry blond rolls his eyes. “Illegal download, Mattsun. Who do you take me for?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Matsukawa teases, “I thought living with Iwaizumi would have put some sense into your thick skull.”

“Iwa-chan is my personal butler, I’ll have you know.” Hanamaki sniffs and turns a condescending stare on him. “He picks up my laundry, stacks my shoes neatly, washes my dishes, clears out the toilet drain… Now, if I could teach him to do my homework for me, my college life would officially be perfect.”

“That is precisely why I will never do your homework for you.”

The duo on the ground _shriek_.

Iwaizumi sighs at their antics, walking to the kitchenette to deposit the food on the table. Oikawa bounds out from the balcony, latching on with a delirious cry of “Iwa-chaaaannn~”

“Trashykawa, get off me. You two. Off the floor and wash your hands before you eat. Then you can sit in Matsukawa’s room and do your homework.”

“Yes, Mom.” They chorus, peeling themselves off the ground with great reluctance. (Matsukawa wonders how they had eased into such familiarity that nobody bothers trying to refute Iwaizumi’s orders anymore.)

Two steps from the bathroom, Hanamaki stops short and turns towards Iwaizumi.

“How come you didn’t say anything about Oikawa doing his homework? You know, the homework that you sent _me_ to deliver?” His eyes flick to the paper bag lying amongst the snacks on the coffee table.

Iwaizumi folds his arms. “He needs supervision, so I’ll be watching him do it. Neither of you are allowed, you’ll only distract him.”

“And I suppose you wouldn’t?” Matsukawa gave his exposed arms a pointed look. Iwaizumi tenses up, and Oikawa sighs dreamily into his ear.

He got a knock to the head for his trouble.

“I have a wooden ruler. Any fooling around and he gets slapped.”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa whistle in sync. “Kinky.”

Iwaizumi glares at them. “If either of you have not finished your papers by tonight, it’s your own fault. I already tried being responsible for the both of you.”

“Aww.”

“Iwaizumi, you care!”

“Iwa-chaann, show _me_ that you care!”

“No. All of you shut up and go wash your hands. Oikawa, I’m dismantling your nest.”

“Noooo! Iwa-chan, you can’t do this to me!”

Out of hearing range, Matsukawa snickers to himself.

College is a pain, sure, but if he has these idiots with him, it’s tolerable after all.


End file.
